"Say it was the seventh game of the ALCS and the game was impacted by that," Maddon said the next day. "Both sides would be yelling bloody murder."

Throughout history, ballparks described as cozy and cavernous have been romanticized in literature. There seems to be, however, no poetic justice when wins and losses are affected by features that are unique to particular playing fields.

Baseball history would be much different had Bucky Dent's fly ball not barely cleared Fenway Park's Green Monster in 1978, giving the New York Yankees the lead for good in a one-game playoff to decide the AL East that sent the Boston Red Sox home for the offseason.

Like many stadium anomalies, Fenway's left-field wall — a tantalizing target for hitters — was created out of architectural necessity. It's 310 feet down the left-field line because the ballpark's footprint backs to Lansdowne Street just outside the park.

According to Harold and Dorothy Seymour's book, Baseball: The Golden Age, the dimensions of ballparks were once determined by the shape of the available real estate on which to build them, which explains the odd horseshoe shape of the old Polo Grounds. It was once 483 feet to the deepest part of center field (and 279 down the line in left) at the New YorkGiants' (and later New York Mets') home.

It was 251 feet down the left-field line when the Dodgers made the Los Angeles Coliseum their temporary home from 1958 to 1961. The track and field and football facility was never intended for baseball. A tall screen was erected in left to prevent cheap home runs, and the park offered seemingly acres of foul territory to the third-base side but virtually none down the first-base side.

Unusual characteristics at other ballparks have been more contrived.

At Citi Field, the Mets' current home, the upper portion of the right-field grandstand protrudes past the lower seats. The look is inspired by old Tiger Stadium in Detroit, which gained an upper-deck overhang in right as part of a 1930s renovation to accommodate additional seating.

Such a feature could turn fly balls into home runs. In July of the Tigers' 1968 World Series championship season, light-hitting infielder Tom Matchick hit a game-winning homer with two outs in the ninth inning into the first row of the overhang. Baltimore Orioles right fielder Frank Robinson could only look up, then throw his glove in disgust after the ball disappeared.

Multisport facilities built in the 1960s and 1970s — such as Three Rivers Stadium in Pittsburgh, Riverfront Stadium in Cincinnati and Veterans Stadium in Philadelphia — lacked personality, though they had their quirks. Most of the dual-sport parks have been replaced, including Houston's Astrodome, Seattle's Kingdome and Minnesota's Metrodome, all three in favor of fresh air and grass.

Baltimore's Oriole Park at Camden Yards became a trendsetter when it opened in 1992, combining state-of-the-art amenities with old-time charm in a baseball-only facility. The antiquated brick B&O Warehouse, a backdrop beyond the short porch in right, stands in harsh contrast to the cookie-cutter parks.

Maddon thinks the Rays need a new home, too.

"To lose a game in a pennant situation like that because of a roof really indicates why there's a crying need for a new ballpark in this area," he told news reporters Aug. 5. "There was a time when (our field) was cute. It's not cute today. I think it's probably a perfect commercial advertisement or reason to have a new ballpark."

More than likely, even a new stadium in the Tampa area will include a quirk or two. Here are some of the stadium oddities that help bring baseball a taste of the unpredictable nearly every day:

Fenway fun

Perhaps no outfield is more unusual than the one at Fenway Park, with the Green Monster looming in left and Pesky's Pole an enticing target 302 feet from home plate in the right-field corner.

But one of the more overlooked aspects of the ball yard is the center-field triangle, created by the center-field wall where it meets a corner of the bleachers behind the bullpen.

"The triangle dates to the park's original construction in 1912 and reconstruction," says Bob Bluthardt, who chaired the Society for American Baseball Research's ballpark committee for 27 years. "There were really two separate bleacher sections built at angles to one another, not dissimilar to the way the bleachers look today.

"After Tom Yawkey bought the team in 1933, he spent a huge amount of money to rebuild the park. All the wooden sections of the outfield grandstand and bleachers were rebuilt in concrete and steel and built at similar angles to the wooden bleachers they replaced. The bullpens, added in 1940, after (left-handed hitting) Ted Williams' rookie season, had a substantial effect on every batter hitting to right field at Fenway, shortening the distance to the fence."

At 420 feet to its deepest point, the triangle creates a nightmare for center fielders who still must respect caroms off the wall in left and cover a large expanse in right-center.

"You have to be aggressive out there, but it takes a while to get comfortable," says veteran outfielder Mike Cameron, who played 48 games in 2010, his first season with the Red Sox, before an abdominal injury ended it. "The angles are so distinct. All you can do is go out there and play it. Talking with other guys doesn't help that much. Experiencing the bounces and angles yourself is the biggest thing you can do to get comfortable."

The triangle challenges umpires as well. Any batted ball landing to the left of the yellow line on the wall at the top point of the triangle (the 420 marker) is in play. Any ball that hits to the right of the line is a home run.

Fenway continues to be hitter friendly, thanks in part to its lack of foul territory. Field-level box seats have encroached toward the playing surface in recent years.

Another Fenway oddity: the ladder that ascends the wall from the top of the hand-operated scoreboard in left field. Members of the grounds crew once climbed the ladder to retrieve balls from the netting above the Green Monster. Now that seats have replaced the net, the ladder's utilitarian value is diminished. But a ball that strikes the ladder is in play — except in the unlikely event it bounds over the fence, in which case it becomes a ground-rule double.

Chicago's ivy league

Built in 1914, Chicago's Wrigley Field is known for the ivy growing on the outfield walls. It was planted in 1937 under the supervision of baseball innovator Bill Veeck, who worked for the team at the time, for aesthetic value. The ivy has become an attraction at Wrigley Field, much like the Green Monster in Boston. But with the decorative vines come headaches. A ball that gets tangled in the vines on the outfield wall is a ground-rule double. If an outfielder makes an attempt to retrieve the ball from the ivy, it becomes a live ball, and the ground-rule double rule becomes null.

Savvy outfielders will throw up their hands, signaling umpires that the ball is in the vines. The presumption is that a batter might get more than a double if the fielder attempts to extricate the ball.

But managing the Wrigley outfield goes far beyond the greenery on the walls.

Wrigley can play big or small. Early in the season, when the wind blows in from Lake Michigan, fly balls tend to die. On warm and windy days during the summer, breezes from the south often help balls carry out of the park.

Occasionally, Wrigley will experience a cross-breeze, which can create havoc with fly balls.

"I remember Charlie Spikes playing left field for us," Atlanta Braves manager Bobby Cox says. "The batter hit one deep into the stands — we thought. All of a sudden, the wind's got it. Charlie Spikes gave up on it and starts jogging back to his position, and here comes the ball back (in play).

"It had been raining, too. The ball lands in the grass and buries in a divot out there. Everybody's screaming at Charlie to go get the ball, but it's buried in a divot. (The result:) Inside-the-park homer."

Catwalking

With the Metrodome no longer a major league site, Tropicana Field in St. Petersburg, Fla., is the lone indoor ballpark lacking a retractable roof in the majors. Its catwalks have created controversy and frustration since long before Maddon's recent rant.

"Catwalks are a physical way to get to the under-ceiling and lights," says Tom Shieber, senior curator at the Baseball Hall of Fame. "The best solution might be with a new ballpark."

Few will quibble.

"The catwalks are definitely tough," says Cincinnati Reds outfielder Jonny Gomes, who played for Tampa Bay from 2003 to 2008. "I remember a ball that I hit against Toronto went up and stuck up there. (John) McDonald was playing shortstop. The ball rolled down, fell through a crack and he caught it. I'm standing on third, watching it, and I'm out.

"I've seen Jim Thome and Jason Giambi hit balls where I didn't think anyone could hit them. Some of the furthest balls I've ever seen hit only go (about) 370 feet because they hit a catwalk."

There are rules regarding the four catwalks at Tropicana Field, which is a multisport facility:

•A batted ball striking one of the two lower catwalks in fair territory is a home run.

•If a ball not judged to be a homer gets stuck on a catwalk, it's a ground-rule double.

•A ball not judged to be a homer that hits a catwalk or suspended object in fair territory is judged to be fair or foul by where it strikes the ground or is touched by a fielder. If the ball is caught by a fielder, the batter is out.

Since the Rays began playing at Tropicana Field in 1998, 110 fair balls have hit catwalks, including seven in 2010 through Sunday.

But only once had one struck the "A" ring before Kubel's ball that set off Maddon on Aug. 5. The "A" ring, the highest metal catwalk at Tropicana, is about 190 feet above the field.

Minnesota's great outdoors

Minneapolis' new stadium this season, Target Field, has its share of quirks, but they may not ever match those that made up the legacy of the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome, which remains home to the NFL's Vikings.

The Metrodome featured hanging speakers that would produce catwalk-like complications. In its first season (1982), the 'Dome was not air conditioned. Balls flew out as the building became known as the homer dome.

The artificial turf infield always played fast, and balls that bounced in the outfield took unnaturally high hops. A plastic covering over retractable seats in right field became known as the "Hefty bag."

But one feature that drove opponents crazy was a perception that air currents in the stadium would be altered to benefit the home team. Opponents swore they could feel a breeze blowing in when they were at bat and a breeze blowing out when the Twins were up. Was it true?

In 2003, Dick Ericson, a former Metrodome superintendent, told Minneapolis' Star Tribune that he'd sometimes adjust the ventilation system in the late innings to give the Twins an advantage. He said the stadium fans were blowing out when Kirby Puckett hit an 11th-inning homer to win Game 6 of the 1991 World Series against the Atlanta Braves.

At outdoor Target Field, outfielders in particular are faced with challenges. In right field, there's a wall that's 23 feet high and an overhang that juts out 8 feet at the center-field end.

Different surfaces have complicated how balls will react when striking the wall.

The facing of the overhang is limestone. The top 2 feet of the wall on either side of the overhang is made of concrete. The majority of wall below that strip of concrete is made of wood. The lowest 8 feet is padding.

"It's definitely quirky," says Twins right fielder Michael Cuddyer. "You have to deal with four different surfaces, and the ball bounces differently off each one.

"The hardest part of that (is that) you don't know which way a ball is going to bounce. The limestone is angled toward the stands (along the right-field line). But if the ball hits below the limestone, it's going to bounce out toward center."

The overhang itself is another matter.

Cuddyer went back on a fly ball by Jose Guillen but was uncertain if the ball would strike the overhang or not. It didn't, just missing on its downward arc. Because of an instant of hesitation, Cuddyer never reached the wall as the ball hit the wall at a catchable level and caromed away. Guillen had a triple.

Players can spend hours of practice trying to learn the nuances of outfield fences, but that might not work at Target Field.

"You just have to ad-lib," Cuddyer says.

The flagpole on the hill

Minute Maid Park in Houston is perhaps the game's quirkiest of the recently built parks.

Left field offers a short poke to the Crawford Boxes — 315 feet down the line, with a replica locomotive set to cruise the tracks high above the wall any time an Astro hits one out.

But the toughest aspect for a fielder is in deep center field, where a 90-foot incline extends to the outfield fence.

Known affectionately as "Tal's Hill" (named after team President Tal Smith), it was designed to evoke memories of the slope up to the outfield wall at Crosley Field, the Reds' former ballpark in Cincinnati.

"Fenway once had something similar with 'Duffy's Cliff' in front of the left-field wall," Bluthardt says. "It was, literally, a warning track. When a guy was running back and reached the hill, he knew he had only so many steps before he hit the wall.

"The difference (in Houston) is they did it because they liked the idea. There's no real physical reason for it."

For similar nostalgic reasons, center field also features a flagpole, as old Tiger Stadium did. As at that classic park, center field is extremely far away (435 feet) from home plate at Minute Maid.

The pole and hill there don't often come into play, but it has happened.

"I've seen Andruw Jones go up (the hill) out there," Cox says. "If they can hit 'em that far, it comes into play."

Connecting at Coors Field

Coors Field has long been considered a home run hitter's dream, but not so much because of its dimensions.

Studies have found that under mile-high conditions, baseballs travel as much as 10% farther. The thin air also affects a pitcher's ability to throw curveballs, which break less than in typical conditions.

In addition, Coors has one of the biggest outfields in the majors because builders were concerned with the low air density and positioned the fences a long way from home plate.

The fence is 390 feet away in left-center, 415 in center and 375 in right-center. The power alleys can turn singles into doubles or triples when balls roll to the wall, and a hard infield surface further promotes this possibility.

But few suspected the magnitude of Coors Field's home run problem. Statistics were so skewed that the Rockies had a hard time attracting pitchers in free agency without overpaying.

"For a long time ... we would go, 'Ooooh and aaaah,' " former Rockies manager Clint Hurdle says. "Everybody that came to the plate was homer-ready."

The record for home runs in a ballpark in a single season had been 248, set in 1961 when the Angels and their visitors took advantage of cozy dimensions at Wrigley Field in Los Angeles.

Coors surrendered 241 homers despite a 72-game home schedule in its first season (1995, shortened by a labor dispute). The next year, 1996, the stadium yielded 271 homers. In 1999, a record 303 balls went for home runs.

For answers, the Rockies turned to scientists, who determined that dry air (not necessarily thin air) influenced a baseball's ability to travel farther. The baseballs seemed to be shrinking and hardening.

The solution was the construction of a 9-foot-by-9-foot, steel-lined humidor behind the home clubhouse to store game balls at a constant 70 degrees. Home run numbers at Coors Field are now more in line with other big-league parks.

Oakland's expanse

For years, Candlestick Park, former home of the San Francisco Giants, was the bane of existence for National League outfielders. Wind would blow balls every which way.

Things are tricky at the Oakland Coliseum for different reasons, especially the abundance of foul territory that comes with a stadium designed to accommodate football.

"In most ballparks, those tough pitches you battle are foul balls — souvenirs in the stands. Here, in Oakland, they're outs."

Along with the considerable foul territory, players have to battle the warm-up mounds down the lines that are also in play at the Coliseum, as they are in some major league parks.

A's infielder Mark Ellis says he's seen players take some nasty tumbles, but some players worry more about the mounds than others.

"I'm not fast enough to get to the mounds," says the A's Jack Cust, who plays some outfield but more designated hitter. "If I'm at the mound, probably somebody else has already beat me there."

Oakland's Coliseum and Miami's Sun Life Stadium are the only remaining major league parks that are also used by NFL teams.

"Thirty years ago, baseball teams were playing games in football stadiums," Bluthardt says. "Now, we've gone back to the way it's supposed to be, with football teams in parks built for football and baseball teams playing in parks built for baseball."

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